


Home Guard

by Spunky0ne



Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunky0ne/pseuds/Spunky0ne
Summary: Five young elves on a mission to become members of the Home Guard find themselves in the middle of a wicked plot to kill King Eventine. When the king's son, Aine, dies in a suspicious hunting accident, the five are cast under suspicion and must find the culprit to clear their names. (Backstory for Crispin, who is Captain of the Home Guard in The Elfstones of Shannara)





	Home Guard

The very soft scrape of a leather boot on the nearby trail reached Crispin's sharp ears and made him go still, honing in on the area the sound had come from. Keeping his breaths silent, he listened and watched closely as the slight breeze moved the branches of the trees in the forest and the rush of a brook, chattering birds and the little sounds of insects all tried to distract him. One by one, he tuned them out and extended his senses to detect the one the boot belonged to.

_Trace is too good at this._

Crispin's brown eyes squinted slightly and he smiled as he heard another barely audible step. He raised his bow and aimed at the source of the sounds, waiting until he saw the tiniest movement of the brush ahead of him to fire a training arrow that sliced through the air and barely missed the other young man who had been stalking him. Flushed out, the other darted back into the forest, with Crispin following.

The two made little sound as they dashed through the trees, vaulting rocks and small bushes, ducking to avoid low hanging branches and closing in rapidly on the place where they had camped. Crispin felt a little throb of urgency as they neared it, and he pushed his lithe body harder.

_If I ever want to be inducted into the Home Guard, I have to be at least good enough to beat Trace!_

He caught a glimpse of his taller friend, just ahead of him and fired off another arrow, missing by inches as it struck and left a dusting of bright chalk on the trunk of a small pine tree.

"Missed me!" Trace laughed, altering his course several times as Crispin sought to focus on him again, "You'll have to do better than that, little one!"

From anyone else, the words would have been an unbearable insult. Crispin was smaller and slighter than most of the teens his age and it meant he had to work harder than his peers if he wanted to join the ranks of the honored group of men and women who protected the royal family. But no one had been his friend longer than Trace Halstead or had invested as much in seeing him succeed.

_That is what best friends do for each other._

The thought warmed his heart as the two weaved through the trees and burst out into the open, Crispin raising his bow in mid jump for one last shot as Trace prepared to leap over the stream ahead of them to finish the game. He loosed the arrow and landed gracefully, sighing as the dulled tip barely brushed his friend's shoulder, leaving just a small marking as Trace landed and went into a forward roll, then turned back to watch as Crispin made his jump.

"Nice shooting," he complimented his friend, "but it looks like I won this time."

It would have been easy to blame his shorter legs, but Crispin took the loss in stride and offered a hand to Trace, who accepted graciously and pulled him into a warm hug.

"You get better every day," he said approvingly, "Come on, let's eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

They walked slowly back to their campsite, catching their breath gradually and enjoying the soft breezes that quickly cooled them. They sat down on two stumps and ate the dried meats, cheese and fresh fruit they had brought along, then broke camp and prepared to walk back to their homes.

"I can't believe the trials begin tomorrow," Crispin said, looking up at the taller youth as they moved along the path, and feeling a touch of envy at his sturdier build and longer limbs, "I wish there was more time. I know you're going to be chosen to serve. I'll die of boredom being left behind here if I don't go too."

"Then there's no choice but getting chosen too," Trace said firmly, "You are good enough to make it, Cris. You may think that your height and build are holding you back, but you've learned to use your size to your advantage. You have sharper eyes than mine and your aim with that bow, especially while moving, is much better than the rest of the recruits. You have a good shot at this, Crispin. You can do it."

Crispin smiled.

"I wouldn't have a chance at all without you. Thank you, Trace."

He heard a sharp male voice calling his name in the distance and groaned. Trace scowled.

"Doesn't he have anything better to do than annoy you?" he complained, "That guy is ridiculous...obviously not blood related to you."

"Lay off of my stepfather," Crispin chuckled, "He's annoying, but it's just because he doesn't understand how important this is. To him, it's all about tending crops and raising animals. That's all anyone around here thinks about. That's why I've got to get out of here."

"Well, enough of that. Go, before he busts a vein, shouting like that."

"I'll meet you at the road, an hour before dawn," Crispin promised as Trace patted him on the shoulder and nodded.

"Get plenty of sleep."

"I will."

Crispin watched his friend dash away and rolled his dark eyes as his stepfather's voice rose up again, calling out more stridently.

"I'm here!" he called back, jogging up the path and slowing as he reached the more stocky brown-haired man, "Sorry I'm late. It's the last day before the trials. I want to be ready."

The older man looked at him out of the corner of an eye and shook his head dismissively.

"It would be more sensible to work harder at producing something instead of chasing each other through the forest," he said gruffly, "You know how rare it is for anyone from the farming communities to be chosen to serve the king's family. Chances are, you're wasting your time. And while you are, there are crops to grow and animals to take care of. That's a common elf's life, Crispin. You'd be wiser getting used to that. Now, go on and do your chores."

Crispin nodded and fell back, sighing resignedly and turning into the barn, where he checked the feed boxes for the cows and chickens, then cleaned up and sharpened his stepfather's tools. It was well past dark when he finished and walked back to the house, his slender body aching and worry clenching his insides.

_I can't believe that tomorrow everything could change._

He approached the plain wooden house his family lived in, pausing outside the door to clean the mud from his boots before entering. His stepfather was already in his recliner, smoking his pipe and reading and his mother sat nearby, sewing. Crispin heard a soft footstep in the hallway and smiled at his little sister, admiring her more solid build and lighter coloring.

_She looks like Mom. I look like my father, like an outsider compared to the three of them._

"What're you doing out of bed, Shanna?" he chided her.

The little girl peered around him at the two adults sitting quietly in the other room.

"I want a story!" she hissed conspiratorially, "Come on, Cris!"

Crispin looked back over his shoulder, then winked at her and nodded.

"Just one," he agreed, smiling more widely as she grabbed his hand and dragged him along to her little bedroom.

She leapt into her bed as Crispin turned off the light and sat down on the floor beside it. He thought carefully, then tilted his head and eyed her questioningly.

"Tell me another about Shea Ohmsford!" Shanna requested, lying down on her bed and closing her eyes.

"All right," Crispin agreed, "You know that Shea and his brother Flick were forced to leave Shady Vale when the minions of the Warlock Lord came looking for Shea because he was a distant son of the royal house of Jerle Shannara, right?"

"Uh huh," the little girl nodded, keeping her eyes closed.

"Well, Shea decided that the two of them should go to the highlands to find their friend, Menion Leah, who was crown prince of that kingdom. Menion was kind of a troublemaker."

"Like me!" Shanna giggled.

"Oh, I'm afraid he was much worse than you," Crispin said emphatically, "He never took his work seriously and was always sneaking out to hunt or go on adventures. Flick wasn't fond of the idea of trusting him with their lives, but Shea insisted, and the two set off through a dark forest, moving carefully to avoid being found. Well, they managed to find their way to Menion without being caught, and once they did, Shea told his friend what was going on. Menion, being a good friend..."

"Like Trace?" Shanna asked.

"Like Trace, but even more apt to get in trouble," Crispin chuckled, "He joined them, and the three set out on their journey to find the fabled Sword of Shannara, that had been lost many years before. They had to pass through a dense, misty, scary forest, and once they entered that forest, the mist was too thick and they quickly lost their way. They tried to keep together, but the mist got even thicker and somehow Shea and Flick got separated from their friend!"

"Cris," their stepfather said suddenly from the doorway, "Can I talk to you?"

Crispin cringed inwardly, but nodded and kissed Shanna on the forehead.

"I'll have to tell you the rest later," he sighed.

"But it's at an exciting part!" his sister complained.

"You're up past your bedtime," their stepfather said sternly, "Go to sleep now."

"Yes, Father," Shanna said, scowling as he rolled over and faced the open window.

Crispin left the bedroom and followed the older man back to the sitting room. His mother looked up at him briefly and smiled, then went back to her work. Crispin watched as his stepfather sat down, then took a seat in the chair partially facing his.

"You know what I'm going to say," his stepfather began, "I've told you this before."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm," Crispin apologized.

"It's not good to be filling her head with that nonsense. She daydreams enough as it is."

"She's a child," Crispin argued.

"She's supposed to be learning to do useful things, helping out around here. You fill her head with stories and she doesn't pay attention. She wastes her time fantasizing and she'll grow up to be useless on a farm."

"Maybe she won't want to live on a farm," Crispin countered, "A lot of people end up moving closer to Arborlon, getting jobs in the city there or joining the military forces."

"Those are your daydreams, Cris! Shanna isn't going to go anywhere. She'll need to learn to help out around a farm if she wants to find a husband."

"But shouldn't that be her choice?"

"What's to choose? We are who we are!"

His stepfather scowled and sighed in annoyance.

"But look who I'm talking to. You're head's more in the clouds than that girl's. So convinced that you're going to run away and join the Home Guard. You know you don't have a chance. The others are bigger, faster and stronger than you. But...you think you know better than nature? You think you can defy the differences between you and them. Go on and you'll see I'm right. Your place here will be waiting for you when you come back. Go on to bed, now. And don't wake her up to set her daydreaming again."

"I won't," Crispin said, turning his head away to hide his disgust.

"I'm only saying this for your own good. You're not a bad kid, no matter than your father was a dreamer too. Just remember that's why he died, Cris. I'm just doing what I think is best for you."

"I know. Good night...Father," Crispin said, rising and turning away.

"Good night, Boy."

Crispin walked back to his bedroom, pausing for a moment by Shanna's door and smiling to himself as he heard her little voice telling another of the stories he had told her.

 _Don't let him change you, little sister_ , he thought, closing his brown eyes for a moment, then continuing down the hallway.

He reached his bedroom and slipped inside, closing the door to filter out the sounds of his stepfather's voice complaining to his mother about his bad habits.

_I think Mom knows I wasn't meant to be a farmer. I know I can be a soldier, a protector of the royal family. I've wanted that for all of my life. I'm not going to stop dreaming of it and condemn myself to living on this farm forever. There's more out there for me. I know there is. And once I leave tomorrow, I'm not coming back. Whatever happens, I'm leaving this place and this life behind me._

He slipped out of his clothes and dressed for bed, then laid down and looked out the window at the bright, solemn moon that peeked through thick, dark clouds. Sleep came slowly and he felt more than a little less comfortable than he had while camping out with Trace, curling up alongside his longtime friend and sharing their body heat.

_I know that upon induction into the Home Guard, recruits are placed in partnerships, pairs of fighters who work together as they rise through the ranks. I know Trace will be recruited. I want to be there with him, standing between the royal family and any danger._

His mind went back suddenly to that day long before, when a tall, graceful looking man with jade colored eyes and finely made weapons had come to their door unexpectedly.

_Crispin peeked around the corner as his mother opened the door and let the handsome stranger into the house. The man extended a hand in greeting._

_"I am Kason Mills of Arborlon," he explained, "I am your husband, Vega's fighting partner in the Home Guard."_

_He tried to say more, but his voice failed him for a moment, and a look of devastation entered the peasant woman's widened eyes._

_"Vega?" she breathed, placing a hand over her heart._

_"I am sorry," Kason whispered, taking her hand in his, "We were leading an expedition into the deep forest, to investigate rumors of something dangerous being constructed there. The group was attacked by beasts out of the swamp. Vega was protecting Prince Arion when he fell. The crown prince sends his deepest regrets and has instructed me to pay the debt on your property and make sure you are provided for."_

_Crispin's eyes filled with tears and he ran back down the hall, past his baby sister's room, bursting through his bedroom door and throwing himself down on his bed. He wasn't sure how long he spent, crying silently into his pillow, before he heard his mother enter the room and felt her hand touch his quaking shoulder._

_"Cris, I know you were listening in," she said in a shaky voice, "I know you're sad right now and I am too, but don't be angry at the man who came here, or at the prince. Your father was a proud soldier, and he was doing what he loved to do. He was devoted to Prince Arion and died bravely protecting him. I hate that he's gone, but that is the price sometimes of our dreams. It gets hard sometimes and bad things happen, but that doesn't mean we should ever give up on our dreams."_

_"B-but if he had, then he would still be here!" Crispin sobbed, wiping his eyes._

_His mother gave him a sad, bracing smile._

_"He would have been here, but his heart would have been somewhere else," she insisted, "Your father loved us very, very much. But he also had strong abilities that the royal family needed. And you see, even though he sacrificed his life, we haven't been forgotten. Prince Arion is helping us to honor your father's devotion. It won't replace him, but it is a sign that being where he was and who he was...well, that's just something that was meant to be. I'll need your help to go on. We'll be all right, but you'll have to grow up a little faster. Will you help me?"_

_He couldn't trust his voice, but he managed a stiff nod and surrendered readily to being held close to her._

_"That's a good boy," his mother said, her voice breaking, "Get some rest now. Tomorrow will be a hard day."_

Crispin started to drift off to sleep, but came awake again at a soft tapping on his window. He sat up, smiling as he spotted Trace outside. He opened the window and offered his friend a hand, pulling him inside and onto the bed. Trace thunked down clumsily and the two froze, staring at the door and listening.

"I don't think they heard," Crispin said, smiling, "What happened? Why did you come back?"

"Eh, Mum and Dad are fighting again," Trace sighed, "I knew if I went in, there'd be a bigger fight about how long I was gone and how useless I am."

"I thought it was bad being lectured about how useful I am here and how I should stop my daydreaming about being a fighter," Crispin said sympathetically.

Trace laid down on his back at Crispin's side, placing his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling.

"Well, after tonight, none of that matters," he resolved, "After tonight, you and I will leave here and never come back. I don't care what happens in the trials, I am going to stay in Arborlon and find something better than this."

"Me too," Crispin agreed, lying down beside Trace and closing his eyes.

"Everything will be different when we get to Arborlon," Trace breathed more softly, turning onto his side to face Crispin, "Everything."

Crispin closed his eyes, comforted by Trace's warmth and familiar scent.

_We'll be all right in Arborlon._

_We'll take care of each other._

_I'm always safe with you, Trace...always._


End file.
